Flamethrower (23 page)

It was fifteen minutes to post time, and Ruby was standing with Juan the Bullet’s owners, Lisa and Mary Tyson. Ruby’s dress was itchy, and her shoes pinched her feet as she stood inside the leafy Belmont paddock. Juan was in his saddling stall, shaking his head as Ed put the saddle on and Nicky tightened the girth.

The paddock judge called “Riders up,” and Nicky led Juan the Bullet from his saddling stall. Ed gave the rider, Freddy Frio, a leg up.

“Oh, he’s so beautiful,” Lisa said softly.

“Yes,” Ruby agreed, “he is.” She was admiring Ed as much as the horse though. Ed looked particularly good to her right then. In the month since Jody’s death, Ed had cooked dinner repeatedly, bought at least six dozen roses, and frequently thrown Ruby down on the bed for the kind of impromptu frenzied screwing she liked best. So Ed looked good. But the horse did too. Juan was still pigeon-toed and a little under-weight,
but, at that moment, under the giant sun, with his tack gleaming and his tiny rider astride, Juan the Bullet was magnificent.

As the horses were led to the track to meet up with their ponies, Ed came over to attempt to exude confidence for Mary and Lisa’s benefit. Ruby knew it wasn’t entirely an act. He believed Juan the Bullet had a much better chance than his 34-1 odds might indicate.

“I’ll be watching from the rail,” Ed told the two women. He’d already warned them he’d be too agitated to sit in their box. It was Ruby’s job to make sure Mary and Lisa were comfortable and entertained.

“See you in the winner’s circle.” Mary winked at Ed.

Ed offered a weak smile.

While Lisa went to sit in the box, Mary and Ruby headed for the betting lines. Ruby was in line right behind Mary and heard the woman putting a thousand dollars to win on Juan. Ruby didn’t want to risk the racing gods’ wrath by making an enormous bet on her boyfriend’s horse. She kept it to twenty dollars to win.

Ruby tried to relax as she settled into her seat next to Lisa, but her stomach was knotted and she felt like her eyes were bulging out of her head. She noticed that Mary and Lisa had a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She sincerely hoped they’d have a reason to pop it.

Out on the track, Juan was on his toes, ears flicking slightly in response to his rider’s hands. While the other two-year-olds nervously danced and crow-hopped, Juan arched his neck and focused. He looked like a pro. His chestnut coat gleamed red
under the sun, and for a second, Ruby flashed on Jody’s vividly red hair. It would be a long time before she stopped seeing that awful picture of her psychiatrist’s charred, disembodied leg. But at least Ruby had stopped seeing Attila’s lifeless head, his blood staining her fingers. That, she had come to terms with. Finally.

Ruby’s stomach flipped as the horses loaded into the starting gate. Juan went in and stood solidly on all fours with his ears pricked forward.

The bell rang, the gates opened, and nine maiden colts and geldings popped out. Juan the Bullet broke well and shot to the lead. His strides were short but machine-gun quick. He opened a two-length lead on the others. Ruby felt her stomach twist up even more. The race was only seven-eighths of a mile, and front-runners won those often enough, but Ruby would have preferred to see the little chestnut tucked into second or third, stalking the pace. The jockey was skiing in the irons, trying to hold Juan back, but it wasn’t doing much good. Juan wasn’t rank per se, he had his ears forward and looked very cheerful, but he was insisting on having it all his way.

Though the horses behind him kept shifting positions and taking turns coming up to Juan the Bullet’s hind end, it looked as though Juan was on his own magic carpet. No one seemed to be able to get all the way up to threaten him.

As they came around the turn, Ruby watched the rider finally give Juan the Bullet his head. The little colt put his ears forward and surged. At the same time, the number-five horse, a big bay, broke away from the pack and came neck and neck
with Juan. Ruby watched Juan pin his ears, threatening his opponent. The jockey showed Juan the whip but didn’t touch him with it. Juan surged monstrously and, in a few seconds, had three lengths on the bay. Ruby held her breath. There was only an eighth of a mile to go, but she’d seen it time and again: tiring front-runners looking for a place to lie down as the closers came on to collect the pieces.

She needn’t have worried. Juan the Bullet expanded his lead by another length and cruised home by daylight. His ears were forward.

Ruby’s legs had stopped working, and she had to sit down. She couldn’t feel her extremities. Next thing she knew, Lisa was grabbing hold of her, pulling her to her feet and down the stairs toward the winner’s circle. There was a blur of smiling faces, and then Ed was hugging Ruby and saying, “We did it! We did it!”

Nicky the groom was grinning broadly, and Violet, who had suddenly materialized, was kissing everyone, including Mary and Lisa. Only Juan the Bullet stood primly still, his head held high, almost disdainful as the track photographer documented the happy event. Lisa and Mary took turns kissing their horse’s nose before Nicky led him out of the winner’s circle and back toward the barn.

“Come to the box to celebrate.” Mary gestured to include Ed, Ruby, and Violet.

Mary popped the champagne, and diminutive Lisa lit a big cigar. Violet, who, as far as Ruby knew, had met Mary and Lisa only once, had her arm looped through Mary’s and was regaling the strapping blonde with the story of one of her
horses who manured in his water bucket when something displeased him.

By her third glass of champagne, Lisa had befriended a pair of brunettes in the next box over. The ladies were all working on another bottle of champagne when Ed and Ruby left them.

“They’re happy,” Ed commented as he and Ruby headed back to the stable area.

“Deliriously,” Ruby said. She was walking gingerly so as not to stain the sandals that were killing her feet.

“And you?” Ed said.

“And me what?”

“Are you happy? Delirious? We never talk about it. About your state of mind.”

This was true. Ruby never mentioned the aftermath of having been stalked or of feeling responsible for not dragging Jody out of the bungalow.

“Oh,” Ruby said, “I’m fine. Frank’s not getting out for the next few decades.”

“I meant Jody. You don’t still feel responsible, do you?”

“No, I’m all right with it. I’m fine,” Ruby said, even though this wasn’t entirely true.

“What does ‘fine’ mean in this instance?”

“It means fine. I’m glad you and I are good, and I’m glad to have my job back. But I do feel fucked up about Jody’s death. Like that.”

“That’s what I mean. You feel fucked up. Are you going to be all right?”

“Do you mean should I go see a psychiatrist to deal with
my own psychiatrist having let herself burn to death? No. Probably not.” Ruby felt her shoulders tense.

Ed smiled slightly. “Okay, okay. Don’t get worked up.”

“I’m not,” Ruby shrugged. They’d reached Ed’s shed row, and Ruby couldn’t wait to liberate Spike from the office.

“You’re going to The Hole now?”

“In a minute, yeah. I’m gonna change clothes and get Spike. Then go.”

Ed put his hands on her hips and looked down into her, deep into her.

“You okay?”

“Not bad.”

“I got you something.”

“Something?”

“A present.”

“Really?”

Ed walked down the aisle a few paces and opened one of the tack trunks there.

“Here,” he said, handing Ruby a cloth sack.

“What is it?”

“Look inside and see.”

Ruby opened the sack and pulled out two beautiful pieces of leather. There was a collar with a brass plaque reading SPIKE and a lovely leash as well.

“These are beautiful!” Ruby practically screamed.

“Had the bridle maker make them,” Ed said, “that guy down in Maryland. Spike will look good in that.”

Ruby thought fleetingly of the vegan Goth girl at the pet store in Trout Falls and repressed a smile. “Thank you, Ed,
thank you.” She reached up, pulled his head closer, and kissed him vigorously.

He dug his fingers into the small of her back.

“I’ll see you at home,” Ruby said.

She felt his eyes on her ass as she walked over to the office door.

Spike jumped off the couch and wiggled. He was going at it so hard it was a struggle putting his new collar on. Once Ruby did get the collar on though, it was a thing of beauty. Spike looked like a million bucks. Ruby picked him up, which wasn’t easy. He was pushing fifty pounds now. She let him lick her cheek then put him down and closed the office door so she could change into barn clothes. Spike started bouncing off the walls, jumping onto the couch then off again, looking at Ruby and making little whining noises in his throat in case she had any doubts about his needing a good long romp.

Ruby took her hair down and looked at herself in the tiny mirror hanging to the right of Ed’s desk. The facial bruising was long gone, but there were dark circles under her eyes, and her face was narrow and pale. Ruby had never been a rosy-cheeked corn-fed type, but right now she looked nearly cadaverous. She really hadn’t been eating, riding her bike, or doing much yoga. The only time she moved her body was when she hoisted herself up onto Jack Valentine’s back every few days to trot around the paddock. She wondered how long she’d looked like this and why no one had said anything.

“Ugh,” she said aloud.

Spike tilted his head and looked at her.

“I don’t always look like this,” Ruby said.

The dog tilted his head the other way.

Ruby was supposed to be at The Hole by 5 P.M. to help Coleman with the kids who were coming for a horsemanship lesson. And Bob, who’d been afraid to do anything other than be nice and grovel for several weeks, had dared to ask Ruby to stop by the museum later to help him sort through slides for a history of Coney Island lecture. Elsie wanted Ruby to look through a baby-naming book with her that night. And there were probably a half dozen other things she was supposed to do too. But it could wait. All of it.

Ruby drove with the windows down, letting the wind cool her. Spike was squinting, the wind flapping his ears. Ruby got onto the Belt Parkway but got off before the exit to The Hole. She pulled the Mustang into the parking area for one of the small beaches just off the Belt. Spike trotted next to her as she walked down the sandy path to the water of Jamaica Bay. It was ten degrees cooler here, and a strong wind masked the traffic sounds.

The little beach was completely deserted, and the water lapping at the white sand was a brilliant blue. It was a pocket of unexpected paradise, a tiny slice of beauty at the edge of the world.

Ruby picked up a stick of driftwood and threw it for Spike. He bounded ahead, retrieved the stick, and deposited it at Ruby’s feet. He looked from Ruby to the stick and back. He tilted his head. Ruby threw the stick again.

There was a figure walking toward Ruby, coming from
the other end of the beach. As the figure came closer, Ruby saw it was a homeless-looking guy. His clothes were dirty rags, and he was barefoot.

“Good afternoon,” he said formally as he came within a few feet of Ruby.

“Hello,” said Ruby.

The man smiled. He had perfect teeth.

“Do you have a cigarette?” he asked.

Ruby fished her pack out from her jeans pocket.

“Here, I don’t need them,” she said, offering the whole pack.

The guy looked surprised then quickly pocketed the pack, secreting it into one of the folds of his clothing.

“Thank you, lady, thank you,” he said. He walked past Ruby.

Above, two gulls hovered, as if dangling from strings a ghost had thrown through the sky.

Ruby found a Fireball in her pocket and popped it into her mouth.